The Town of my Memories

Sometimes I wonder if we, as souls, choose where we want to be born?

If so, our parents are the obvious first aspect of the choice, but what about the place? I always have been grateful about the place I was raised. It was a small and quiet town, too small that you could walk it across in an hour and so quiet that roosters waked you up in the morning. The place was intimate. People knew each other well, all afternoons they pulled chairs outside their house and sat to enjoy the sunset and watched their kids play soccer at the street as part of the daily ritual of a peaceful life. Violence was an alien concept for the residents, something seen only in television, in a distant reality.

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Lucy’s Complex

Weeks ago a friend of mine invited me to see Lucy (2014) a film starred by Scarlett Johansson and Morgan Freeman, and Directed and Produced by Luc Besson. Even I am fan of early filmography of Besson like Le Dernier Combat (1983), Leon (1994) and Le Grand Bleu (1988), I was skeptical to attend, because of the recent disappointing work of Besson and the awful critics that were spinning around the net. Anyway, we went to the cinema.

The film is an action-packed movie in the style of the latest works of the director that exploits the unsubstantiated premise of the “hidden capability of the brain,” From my point of view, the movie was plagued with lousy synedoches, of the actual action interacting with footage of wildlife that instead of proposing a new understanding of the scene, only acted as pleonasm interrupting the continuity of the movie. Anyway I know Luc will not read (or care) about my cinematic perception, so let’s skip the cinematographic analysis.

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